


Noble Sir Lancelot

by LiGi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lancelot (Merlin), Canon Era, Caring Lancelot (Merlin), Gwaincelot, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hurt Gwaine (Merlin), M/M, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Gwaine (Merlin), little bit of plot, little bit of whump, my boys!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiGi/pseuds/LiGi
Summary: He’d lifted it with his bad shoulder and, although it was hardly a heavy thing to lift, it nevertheless pulled at the bruised muscle and made Gwaine hiss with pain and drop the pitcher back to the table, curling forwards and grabbing his arm.Before he even knew what was happening Lancelot’s hands were on him, pushing his gambeson down off his shoulders. His hands cool against Gwaine’s still sweaty skin. It was like something out of one of Gwaine’s dreams. He let out a groan without thinking. Lancelot frowned, obviously taking it for a groan of pain. It was not.“That bad?” Lancelot asked worriedly. Then he was pulling off Gwaine’s shirt.“Ah. That bad,” Gwaine gasped. His breeches felt tight. He needed to get control of himself. He screwed his eyes shut.Lancelot’s hands roamed his shoulder, ever so gently, almost caressing the huge bruise that had spread all the way down to his bicep. Gwaine’s breath hitched. Lancelot didn’t even seem to realise what effect he was having on him.ORJust two knights taking care of each other ;)
Relationships: Gwaine/Lancelot (Merlin)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Noble Sir Lancelot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Onehelluvapilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/gifts).



> I can’t quite believe I’m publishing this. This is not my first smut fic, not by a long shot. But it is the first one I have ever shared. This is the first time anyone other than myself has read my smut. (hides)
> 
> This stemmed from a conversation with my lovely friend, Onehelluvapilot, about Lancelot being a kinky little bastard who loves having his hair pulled... And then I surprised even myself with how much I wrote. It was supposed to be just a quick little sex scene, 2k at most… but, well, Gwaine and Lance got a little carried away and this is now the longest fic I have published on Ao3. Possibly one of the longest fanfics I have written for a while, those boys were not holding back. This puts all other smuts I have ever written to shame.  
> There is a little tiny bit of plot around the porn. And I had to put a little bit of whump in there because my muse gets off on that…
> 
> I hope you all like it.

Gwaine almost didn’t hear the knock at his chamber door it was so quiet. He was halfway through undressing, his chainmail in a dirty pile on the floor and his gambeson unlaced and sliding off his shoulders.

He rolled his painful shoulder and went to the door, expecting a servant or something from the politeness of the knock.

He couldn’t stop the pleasant way his stomach squirmed when he saw it wasn’t a servant, but Lancelot standing outside his door. He’d already divested himself of his chainmail and was wearing a simple pale blue shirt, baggy and open wide at the collar. He was holding a pitcher loosely in one hand by his side.

“Ah, the fine Sir Lancelot,” Gwaine said, grin breaking across his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I wanted to apologise,” Lancelot said sincerely.

“You already did,” Gwaine told him with a roll of his eyes. He stepped backwards and gestured for Lancelot to come in, shutting the door behind him.

At practise that afternoon Gwaine had let his attention slip for a fraction of a second while sparring against Lancelot and missed a block. Lancelot had whacked him so hard with the flat of his sword that Gwaine had been knocked to the floor. Lancelot had, of course, immediately fallen to knees to apologise and check Gwaine was alright. Which he was. Or at least he had damn well acted like he was with all the other knights watching. He’d let Lancelot pull him back to his feet and had good-naturedly smacked him round the back of the head.

It was entirely Lancelot’s fault that he’d lost concentration anyway. Gwaine had been distracted by a bead of sweat as it slid over Lancelot’s jaw and down his throat. He had been so busy thinking about how he wanted to follow it with his tongue he had missed Lancelot’s change of footwork as he stepped closer for a hit.

“I feel I need to again.” Lancelot actually sounded troubled and guilty.

“It was my fault, Lancelot. I let my focus slip.”

Lancelot looked down at his hands, and seemed to remember the pitcher he was holding.

“I, uh…” He held it up and Gwaine caught a waft of his favourite honeyed mead. “I wasn’t sure you’d be up for your usual trek down to the tavern so I fetched this for you.”

“Now that I will thank you for.”

Gwaine grinned and beckoned Lancelot over to the table. There was a clean goblet beside his water jug and the leftover one from his luncheon ale. He passed the clean one to Lancelot, and drained the last dribble of ale from the other. Lancelot laughed and filled them both with mead.

Gwaine took a gulp and tried not to stare at the decidedly too tempting way Lancelot’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He took another gulp, for something else to concentrate on, and then another.

He drained his goblet and put it back on the table, lifting the pitcher to pour another one. But he’d lifted it with his bad shoulder and, although it was hardly a heavy thing to lift, it nevertheless pulled at the bruised muscle and made him hiss with pain and drop the pitcher back to the table, curling forwards and grabbing his arm.

“Gwaine!” Lancelot put his goblet down, some mead splashing over the rim in his haste.

Before Gwaine even knew what was happening Lancelot’s hands were on him, pushing his gambeson down off his shoulders. His hands cool against Gwaine’s still sweaty skin. It was like something out of one of Gwaine’s dreams. He let out a groan without thinking. Lancelot frowned, obviously taking it for a groan of pain. It was not.

“That bad?” Lancelot asked worriedly. Then he was pulling off Gwaine’s shirt.

“Fuck. That bad,” Gwaine gasped. His breeches felt tight. Shit. He needed to get control of himself. He screwed his eyes shut.

Lancelot’s hands roamed his shoulder, ever so gently, almost caressing the huge bruise that had spread all the way down to his bicep. Gwaine’s breath hitched. Lancelot didn’t even seem to realise what effect he was having on him. He was just being a good friend, caring for his injury. Even with his eyes closed he could feel Lancelot’s presence beside him, feel the heat of him, hear the soft sound of his breathing. He had clearly had a wash before coming here, he didn’t smell of sweat and armour like Gwaine knew he still did, but of soap. As one of Lancelot’s hands slid from his arm to his chest, Gwaine felt his cock straining hard against his breeches.

In the end he had to push him away, slightly rougher than he had intended. Of course, Lancelot didn’t even so much as stagger, his balance and footwork too good for such a stumble.

Gwaine dropped his head and groaned, his hair falling over his face and blocking his view of Lancelot. Good, he needed a minute not looking at that fucking perfect face. He could still practically feel his cool fingers on him, ghosting over his chest, his nipple tightening in response.

“Are you alright? Gwaine?”

Gwaine hummed and tried to turn away from the other knight before he ended up doing something inappropriate. Unfortunately the movement of his hips drew Lancelot’s attention.

“Oh.”

Great, Lancelot had noticed the bulge in the front of his breeches. Gwaine couldn’t help himself opening his eyes again to see what Lancelot’s reaction would be. Run straight out the door probably.

Lancelot glanced down again, then a blush appeared high on his cheekbones and he turned hastily away before he could catch Gwaine’s eye.

“Ah, I… sorry,” he whispered.

“Stop apologising, Lancelot,” Gwaine sighed. “It’s my fault. I just… you have this effect on me.”

“I do?” Lancelot’s eyes darted down to Gwaine’s crotch again. “Me?”

“Yeah.” He felt his face heat up. Lancelot’s gaze hadn’t flicked back up to his face yet. “Sorry.”

Lancelot stared for a couple more seconds. Gwaine considered just shoving him back out into the corridor and locking the door.

“Would… this help?” Lancelot hesitantly stepped forward, his right hand reaching to cup Gwaine through his breeches.

Gwaine’s head fell back and he had to fight to keep his hips from pushing forwards into Lancelot’s hand.

“Lance…” Gwaine breathed and Lancelot smiled at the nickname. “What are you…?”

“I would have thought you’d recognise this,” Lancelot said wryly, his hand starting to slowly stroke Gwaine’s cock through his breeches.

“You…?” Gwaine swallowed. “You want this?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“Fuck…”

“That too,” Lancelot said with a grin.

Gwaine had to steady himself on the table behind him, his knees had suddenly gone weak. Lancelot stepped closer, pushing one leg between Gwaine’s thighs and bringing them chest to chest.

Gwaine’s hands immediately jumped up to the small of Lancelot’s back, one sliding unapologetically down to his arse. Lancelot’s grin widened.

“Can I…?” He leant close, their noses almost touching.

“Fuck yes,” Gwaine responded before closing the gap, pressing his lips against Lancelot’s, finally after all these weeks of imagining it.

Lancelot was a good kisser. It wasn’t a battle for dominance like with other men Gwaine had kissed, but rather a firm press of lips and tongue and gasped breath. His hand was still cupping Gwaine’s cock and he moved it in time with the swipe of his tongue.

Gwaine squeezed the hand on his arse then let it skim around to the front of Lancelot’s breeches where the fabric was bulging. Time to repay the favour. He grasped Lancelot’s cock through his beeches. Lancelot pulled back from the kiss to fix his intense dark gaze on Gwaine.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow and Lancelot nodded. He bit his lip and closed his eyes as Gwaine stroked, slow but firm.

With his free hand, Gwaine thrust his fingers into the soft hair above Lancelot’s ear, fisting his hand in the loose curls and tugging lightly. Lancelot gasped and Gwaine let go quickly, dropping his hand to Lancelot’s arm.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt –”

Lancelot cut him off, his eyes dark with desire.

“Gwaine.” He took Gwaine’s hand and guided it to the point just behind his ear, where his hair was a little longer. “Do that again. Please.”

A slow smirk rose on Gwaine’s lips and he let his fingers twist into Lancelot’s hair again, his fingernails lightly grazing over his scalp. He pulled it gently.

Lancelot almost growled, tipping his head back.

Gwaine could get used to that noise.

He pulled a little harder and was rewarded with Lancelot canting his hips forward, his hand moving from Gwaine’s cock to the laces of his breeches. Gwaine shifted his hold on Lancelot’s hair to get a tighter grip and Lancelot’s fingers fumbled as a shiver ran down his back.

Enjoying how easily he could get a response from him, Gwaine let his short nails dig slightly into Lancelot’s scalp then reached for the laces of Lancelot’s breeches and yanked them undone. Pushing inside with one hand, he untied the drawstring of his braes too, as his other gave another tug to Lancelot’s hair.

Lancelot moaned as Gwaine’s calloused palm wrapped around his bare cock. It was hot and silky soft and Gwaine relished the way it jerked under his touch.

“Gwaine,” Lancelot breathed out, kissing him and mumbling against his lips. “Let me…”

He stepped backwards, Gwaine’s hands slipping out of his braes and his hair. Gwaine frowned, worried that Lancelot had changed his mind. He was about to say something, apologise maybe, when Lancelot slowly dropped to his knees.

His dark eyes fixed on Gwaine’s as he reached up to his hips, hooking his fingers into the sides of Gwaine’s breeches and braes and pulling them both down his legs.

Gwaine threw his head back with a groan as his cock sprang free. It was aching with need, hot and heavy, and the sudden loss of warmth from his clothes and the cool breeze that replaced it made him squirm, the muscles in his arse and thighs clenching.

Lancelot lifted one of Gwaine’s feet, pulling at his boot. Gwaine perched on the edge of the table behind him so as not to lose his balance, which wasn’t quite up to its usual standard due to the light-headedness of desire. Lancelot pulled the boot off and dropped it to the floor before reaching for his sock.

“Ugh, sorry, they stink,” Gwaine said, heat rising in his cheeks. This of all things made him blush?

Lancelot chuckled, yanking the sock off and tossing it up at Gwaine’s face. It was damp with sweat and did indeed stink. Gwaine threw it across the room, pulling a face. But Lancelot clearly wasn’t deterred by Gwaine’s sweaty feet; he reached for his other boot and removed it as well, lobbing the other sock over his shoulder with a grin up at Gwaine.

Then he slid Gwaine’s breeches and braes off his feet too and Gwaine was fully naked, his backside resting just on the edge of the table. He shivered with anticipation as Lancelot discarded the breeches and let his hands slide up the back of Gwaine’s legs, tickling the indent on the back of his knees.

Gwaine couldn’t quite believe it. This was Lancelot. _Noble_ Sir Lancelot. On his knees at his feet. Looking up at him through his ridiculously long eyelashes as his tongue poked out to lap the head of Gwaine’s cock.

He practically whimpered when Lancelot slid his lips over him. Lancelot’s hands rested lightly around the back of Gwaine’s thighs, holding him in place as he began sucking.

God, this man was good. His tongue swiped along the underside, from base to tip before Lancelot took him fully into his mouth. Gwaine’s breathing stuttered and he fisted his hands into Lancelot’s hair again. Lancelot hummed appreciatively, the vibrations doing all kinds of amazing things to Gwaine’s cock.

“Fuck, Lance.”

He kept bobbing his head, his mouth hot and wet and his tongue so skilled. Where the hell Lancelot, of all people, had learned to suck a cock like this was beyond Gwaine’s guess but he wanted to find the person that had taught him and give them a kiss.

He groaned, heat pooling in his stomach, his hips jerking against Lancelot’s hands as he tried to buck forwards.

After a couple of moments, when he thought he might just pass out from the pleasure, he used his grip on Lancelot’s hair to pull him back off his cock. Lancelot licked his lips, looking up questioningly.

“Do that much longer and I’ll come,” Gwaine told him, his voice deep and husky. He tried to catch his breath.

“That’s what I was aiming for,” Lancelot said, his thumbs rubbing circles on Gwaine’s thighs.

“Not yet, I want to have some fun with you first.”

He grabbed Lancelot’s hands and pulled him to his feet, wasting no time to divest him of his shirt. While his arms were still raised with the shirt tangled around them, Gwaine swooped in to lick a stripe up his chest, flicking his tongue over one nipple, then up to the hollow of his throat. He kissed his collarbone, letting his teeth graze the hot skin. Lancelot’s breath hitched, his Adam’s apple bobbing and Gwaine couldn’t resist sucking on it for a second.

Lancelot had freed his hands from the twists of his shirt, the pale blue fabric fluttering to the floor, and grabbed Gwaine’s waist. He pulled them flush against each other, making Gwaine groan as his bare cock rubbed against the open laced front of Lancelot’s breeches and braes. Lancelot’s cock was protruding through the opening, sticky with pre-come, and nudged against Gwaine’s. The contact was thrilling and Gwaine rutted against Lancelot a couple of times.

“Fuck, Lancelot, fuck…” he muttered as he let his forehead fall to Lancelot’s shoulder.

“I’d better get these off then,” Lancelot relied with a grin, standing on the back of one boot to pull it off, shaking his foot and kicking it away. He repeated it with the other then shoved his breeches and braes unceremoniously down, stepping out of them.

Gwaine looked him up and down. It was a sight to behold. All that gleaming tanned skin, the dark hair trailing down below his navel to the glorious long cock, standing proud. He moaned, drinking it all in.

He wanted to push him to the floor and ravish him right there, but he restrained himself and instead gave him a light shove backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed.

Lancelot sat on the edge of the bed and Gwaine leant down to kiss him, pressing his tongue into Lancelot’s mouth and licking over his teeth. Lancelot lifted one leg and curled it around the back of Gwaine’s knee, lifting his hips slightly up to rock against him. Their cocks brushed and both moaned. Gwaine let his hand find Lancelot’s hair again. Lancelot pulled back from the kiss, his dark eyes meeting Gwaine’s.

“You can fuck me, Gwaine.” He said it so calmly, so sure of it. The slight emphasis on the word _fuck_ , which Gwaine didn’t think he’d ever heard Lancelot say before, going straight to his groin.

“Oh, yes, yes please,” Gwaine panted, already feeling heat pooling in his stomach as his cock jerked excitedly. He placed another searing kiss on Lancelot’s lips before quickly stepping away to the drawer in the cupboard beside his bed. He rummaged through the bits and pieces until he found the jar of ginger scented oil, tossing and catching it one handed with a grin.

He sank to his knees between Lancelot’s legs, using his knees to push his feet wider apart, his hands settling on his thighs. Leaning down he ran his tongue across the inside of Lancelot’s thigh. Lancelot quivered and spread his legs wider. Gwaine let his tongue continue exploring, up to the join where thigh met groin.

Lancelot’s head was thrown back, his arms behind him bracing him. His mouth was open, a moan caught at the back of his throat. He gasped as Gwaine slid one hand beneath him and ran the tip of his finger over his arsehole, Lancelot’s hands fisting the sheets in a white knuckled grip.

Letting his tongue drag up the length of Lancelot’s cock, Gwaine sat back on his heels and opened the jar, slicking two fingers in the spicy smelling oil. Lancelot was looking down at him intently as he rubbed the oil between his fingers, warming it and spreading it up to his knuckles.

Sitting up on his knees again, he shuffled as close to the bed as he could get.

He wrapped one arm around Lancelot’s back, his hand pushing under his arse to lift it slightly off the bed, fingers digging into the round taut flesh, giving his slicked hand room to fit between his legs and behind his cock. He worked his fingers in a circle around Lancelot’s hole, smearing oil over the clenched muscle, then slowly pressed one in.

Lancelot’s head dropped to his chest, his cock twitching against his stomach.

“That’s it,” Gwaine murmured, letting his forehead rest against Lancelot’s.

He pushed his finger further in, loving the little gulping noises Lancelot made.

Using his nose against Lancelot’s cheek, he tipped his head back up so he could plant another kiss on him, swallowing the whimpers as he moved his finger. Lancelot kissed hungrily, giving and taking equally as their tongues swirled together.

Gwaine added a second finger, wiggling them slightly to slide both in. Lancelot clenched involuntarily then relaxed with a stuttering sigh. He leant backwards to give Gwaine’s hand better access to his arse.

“Here, lie back.”

Gwaine pushed him down onto the bed, standing up and pulling Lancelot’s thigh aside so he could stand between his legs and work his hand in. Lancelot hooked his foot around Gwaine’s waist, his heel digging into the dip of Gwaine’s spine just above his arse. He reached up the bed for a pillow, sliding it under Lancelot’s backside, tipping his hips to a better angle. Then gently ran a hand over his stomach, the taut muscles trembling.

“You don’t have to be so gentle with me, Gwaine,” Lancelot said with a wily little smile. His hands were still fisted in the sheets either side of him.

“Noble Sir Lancelot likes it rough?” Gwaine was a little surprised, although considering Lancelot’s reaction to having his hair pulled he probably shouldn’t have been. He moved his fingers faster, twisting and stretching more forcefully than he had been.

“Yes.” Lancelot winced, but still with a smile. “Please.”

Gwaine chuckled.

“Rough but never failing to be polite. That’s what I like about you, Lance.”

He crooked his fingers and Lancelot moaned, hips bucking as Gwaine hit just the right spot. He did it again several times, then plunged in with his third finger.

Lancelot threw his head back into the mattress, mouth open in a silent groan, his eyelids fluttering.

Grinning, Gwaine ran a hand up Lancelot’s side, over his chest where he pinched one nipple then up his neck and into his hair. He got a handful and yanked it. Lancelot arched his back, sending Gwaine’s fingers deeper into him.

God, Gwaine was going to have fun with him. So responsive to every touch. His cock was aching, throbbing and hot, pre-come leaking from the sensitive tip. His eyes rolled back as the thought of his cock buried deep in Lancelot filtered though his mind. He couldn’t wait any longer.

With a final twist, he pulled his fingers from Lancelot. He couldn’t reach down for the pot of scented oil without letting go of Lancelot’s hair, which he didn’t want to do, so he spat on his hand, letting the spit mix with the oil already on his fingers and the pre-come leaking from his tip. The smell of ginger and sex was intoxicating. He stroked himself slowly, languidly, groaning low in his throat as he slicked his cock.

Lancelot watched him with a passionate gaze, his eyes, pupils blown wide with desire, fixed on the slide of Gwaine’s hand. Once sure his cock was ready, he wiped his slippery fingers on the edge of the sheet, sorry for whichever servant had to do the laundry tomorrow.

“Please, Gwaine.” Lancelot’s voice was deeper than usual and shook a little with desire. Gwaine’s stomach flipped at the gentle words and the way his name rolled so nicely off Lancelot’s lips. Lancelot met his eyes, his own smouldering. “Don’t hold back.”

Gwaine grinned, guiding his cock to rest against Lancelot’s arsehole. He took his hand from Lancelot’s hair to grip his hip instead.

“In that case…” He pushed in in one strong thrust, until he was fully sheathed.

Lancelot hissed a breath in through his teeth, face scrunched at the initial pain.

Not quite waiting long enough for Lancelot to get accustomed to the feeling he pulled out, the tight drag against his cock magnificent.

“Oh fuck me,” he breathed. “You feel so good.”

“I was going to say the same thing,” Lancelot said huskily. The wanton look on his face should be criminal, the things it did to Gwaine.

He groaned and slid back in, deep and hard. Unable to hold back and driven almost wild with desire by the idea that Lancelot wanted it so, he snapped his hips forwards roughly, pounding into Lancelot, his hands bruisingly tight on his hips, pulling him back to meet each thrust.

Lancelot gasped and panted, his hands grasping at the sheets and reaching for Gwaine’s chest, his foot on Gwaine’s arse pushing him in closer. Gwaine grunted, his hands shifting from Lancelot’s hips to his arse, lifting him up to make each thrust deeper and shoving Lancelot’s legs wider apart. He wrapped them both around Gwaine, bringing them closer together and forcing Gwaine’s cock deeper still, hitting his prostate on every inward stroke. Lancelot arched his back again, keening.

Gwaine put one hand on Lancelot’s sternum, pressing him back down into the mattress as he felt the shift of strong muscles under the hot skin.

He knew Lancelot’s body, had watched him in training, had sparred against him shirtless in summer, seeing the muscles of his arms and chest and stomach flexing and moving tantalisingly in a multitude of different defensive and aggressive positions. But this was something else entirely. The way the muscles in his stomach rippled, his thighs tense as they gripped Gwaine’s waist. The tendons in his forearms standing out as his hands balled into fists.

There was a dark blush spreading across his chest as well, under the dusting of dark hair and sheen of sweat. Gwaine’s eyes roamed the gorgeous expanse of Lancelot’s body, licking his lips as he took in the dark straining cock bumping against his stomach with every thrust in his arse.

He leant forwards slightly to change angle, lifting Lancelot’s leg over his shoulder, which he had forgotten was injured. Until that moment. He cried out and dropped Lancelot’s leg, his hips stilling their movement as he curled forwards, sharp pain shooting through his shoulder and down his arm. He braced himself on the bed with his non injured arm.

Lancelot scrabbled to a sitting position, pulling off of Gwaine’s cock, his face worried as he steadied Gwaine with hot hands on his chest.

“I’m fine,” Gwaine promised, wincing and rolling his shoulder back.

His hair was stuck to his face with sweat and Lancelot brushed it back gently, tucking it behind his ear. The soft action was so different from the rough shagging of moments before that it made Gwaine’s stomach squirm pleasantly, a warm gooey feeling filling his chest.

“Don’t hurt yourself. Please,” Lancelot said, his usual serious expression back in place.

“I’m fine.” He tried to give Lancelot a rakish smile but the tug of another wince spoilt it.

“We could stop if you –”

“Fuck, no!” He shook his head, hands grabbing for Lancelot’s hips again, his fingernails digging into the skin. “You don’t want to stop do you?”

“Not at all,” Lancelot said with a blissful smile. His eyebrows quirked down as he took in the pain on Gwaine’s face and the way he was still hunched his shoulder. “But let me… Here.”

He shuffled across the bed then gently took Gwaine’s waist and pulled him forwards. Gwaine climbed onto his knees on the mattress and Lancelot steered him to the head of the bed, pushing him down so he was sitting against the headboard.

“Do you have any of Merlin’s bruise balm?” he asked.

“In the drawer,” Gwaine told him, tipping his head to the side to indicate which drawer he meant.

Lancelot got off the bed and opened the drawer, pulling out the jar of arnica and willow bark paste Merlin made for all of the knights. He plonked it onto the bed beside Gwaine before retrieving the ginger oil from the floor as well. Then crawled back up the bed and swung one leg over Gwaine’s, sitting on his thighs. The slight greasy feel of oil from Lancelot’s arsehole rubbed against his thigh and Gwaine couldn’t stop the grin spreading over his face.

Lancelot dribbled a little bit of oil onto his palm and worked it gently over Gwaine’s cock, which had softened slightly from the pain. In just a few deft strokes it was standing hard and proud again and Lancelot rose up on his knees and moved forwards, a hand underneath him to guide Gwaine’s cock back to his hole.

He sank down onto Gwaine’s lap, wiggling his hips once he was fully seated, clenching tightly.

Gwaine groaned as the hot muscles squeezed him, his hands falling to Lancelot’s thighs. He leant forwards to kiss him roughly, nipping at his lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. Lancelot’s hands found their way to Gwaine’s chest, the oily one sliding over his nipples, tweaking each one as his tongue poked through Gwaine’s lips. Moaning happily, Gwaine slid his hands up Lancelot’s back to press against his shoulder blades and pull his chest against him, trapping his hot cock between them.

Lancelot rocked his hips, his cock rubbing against Gwaine’s chest as Gwaine’s cock slid partway out then back into his tight arsehole.

When Lancelot pulled back from the kiss, Gwaine followed him, earning him a chuckle from Lancelot.

Continuing the slow rhythmical rock of his hips, Lancelot picked up the pot of bruise balm from beside him on the bed, rubbing the oil from his palm on the sheet then scooping some balm into his hand.

The pine-sage smell of arnica hit Gwaine as Lancelot smeared the balm over his bruised shoulder, massaging it gently into the tender muscle. A whimper slipped from Gwaine’s lips, and he ducked his head down to press his forehead into the nook of Lancelot’s neck.

There was a part of him – one he usually kept hidden because it seemed far too intimate for the casualness of most of his sexual partners – that craved being taken care of. And unknowingly Lancelot was playing exactly into his hidden desire. And he did it all without stilling the movement of his hips.

Gwaine was overwhelmed by it all, the soft massage, the hot tug on his cock, the sticky slide of Lancelot’s cock on his stomach. The heady aroma of ginger and arnica. He groaned low in his throat, his eyes fluttering closed, biting into Lancelot’s collarbone, tasting the salt of sweat as it pooled in the dip of his throat and getting a moan in return. Heat was pooling in his groin, all the muscles in his thighs tightening.

Lancelot finished massaging his shoulder and his hand slid up Gwaine’s neck, lifting his head so he could connect their eyes. Once Gwaine’s gaze was fixed with his, Lancelot moved his hands to his chest, his thumbs on his nipples. He braced himself against Gwaine’s chest and began rocking harder and faster, lifting himself to almost pull off Gwaine’s cock before dropping back to his lap, grinding his arse down. He let out another gasp, tilting his hips as he found his prostate again.

Gwaine canted his own hips, thrusting up to meet Lancelot’s downwards motion. They both groaned as Gwaine’s cock nudged into just the right place inside Lancelot and his walls clenched.

“Yes, Lance, fuck yes,” Gwaine rasped as he jerked his hips. “Fuck yes.” He wrapped his fingers in Lancelot’s hair again, tugging roughly.

“Gwaine…” Lancelot whined his name, a long high pitched sound that Gwaine wanted to hear again and again.

Their rhythm became stilted, both rutting as hard as they could, every thrust hitting Lancelot in just the right spot. Their foreheads bumped together as they both leant forwards, hot breath mingling as their lips brushed, never quite kissing, just keeping constant contact.

Gwaine felt like his groin was burning, the pressure wound so tight he was likely to burst from it any second. Lancelot was mewling, his hands flexing against Gwaine’s chest. A couple more thrusts tipped Gwaine over the edge.

He shouted a stream of expletives, his head thrown back against the headboard as his hands pulled at Lancelot’s hair. Lancelot’s mouth had fallen open, his breath caught in his throat as he bore down on Gwaine’s pulsing cock. Gwaine’s vision whited out as his eyes stuttered open and closed, his toes curling and heels digging into the mattress as he rode his orgasm, harder and stronger than he’d had in a long time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted as he came back down from his high, releasing his grip on Lancelot’s hair. A few loose strands were tangled around his fingers, he’d been tugging it so hard.

He gave Lancelot a searing kiss, delving his tongue into his mouth. Then curled his hand around Lancelot’s cock and began stroking, letting his little finger brush against his balls each time he reached the base of his cock. Lancelot gasped a ragged yelp, coming after only a few long strokes.

His arsehole tightened as all the muscles in his arse and legs tensed and Gwaine’s softening cock was squeezed in a ridiculously pleasing way. Lancelot’s cock was heavy and twitching in Gwaine’s hand and he milked him though it, hot white spurts splattering up his chest and the bottom of his jaw.

When he finished he sagged down against Gwaine, panting. A lazy grin spread over Gwaine’s face and he sighed happily.

“Wow.” He sighed again.

“Yeah, I think that covers it,” Lancelot mumbled into his neck where he’d buried his face.

Gwaine stroked the back of his head, hopefully soothing any sting from his hair pulling. Lancelot kissed his neck then up past his beard and joined their lips, slowly and deeply, humming slightly.

Gwaine could have happily stayed where he was, kissing Lancelot like that for the rest of the night, but his cock was getting too sensitive and the ache in his shoulder was making itself known now that he had no distraction from it. He hooked one hand under Lancelot’s thigh and eased him up and off his cock, hissing at the tight drag.

Lancelot collapsed to the bed beside him, flat out on his back, his chest flushed dark red to match his cheeks. Gwaine looked fondly down at him. If he’d thought Lancelot’s smouldering intense gaze before they’d fucked was attractive it was nothing compared to the blissed-out heavy lidded look he had now. He hummed again contentedly.

Gwaine rolled his aching shoulder, tipping his head back to the wall and closing his eyes.

He felt Lancelot shifting on the bed beside him, then he got up, the mattress creaking quietly. Gwaine opened his eyes and watched Lancelot pad over to the table, a slight limp in his step. He picked up his goblet of mead and took a swig, then a gulp, draining it and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He stooped to snatch up Gwaine’s dirty shirt from the floor and used it to wipe his stomach, then chucked it at Gwaine. He wasn’t fast enough to catch it and it hit him in the face, the smell of his own sweat now mixed with Lancelot’s cum.

He dragged it down his chest, smearing the stickiness away, rubbing lightly at his oversensitive cock until he was about as clean as he could manage. He lobbed the shirt back to Lancelot who used the sleeve to wipe the cum that had leaked down his thigh, tossing the shirt into the basket of other dirty clothes to be collected by a laundry maid in the morning. Then he rummaged in the pile of discarded clothes on the floor and fished out his braes, pulling them on but letting the drawstring hang loose.

“Come ‘ere, Lance,” Gwaine called to him, lifting one knee up to rest his elbow on, watching the way the muscles in Lancelot’s back moved as he turned around.

He came over and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over and kissing Gwaine again. Gwaine let his tongue lazily probe against Lancelot’s lips until Lancelot let him inside. He tasted like the honeyed mead now and Gwaine wrapped a hand around Lancelot’s upper arm to haul him closer and kiss him deeper.

When they broke apart Lancelot reached to brush a sweaty strand of hair off Gwaine’s forehead, letting his hand slide down the side of Gwaine’s face gently. He scratched his fingers through his beard, chuckling when Gwaine nuzzled a little closer.

“How’s your shoulder, I feel a little guilty for making it worse than it –”

“It’s fine. It was worth the pain,” he said with a rakish grin, letting his eyes flicker down Lancelot’s body then back up to his eyes, which were twinkling with mirth.

Lancelot’s hand dropped from Gwaine’s face to his shoulder, giving it another quick massage.

“Do you want me to ask a servant to bring you up a bath?”

“Nah, too tired now, I” – a wide yawn cracked his jaw – “I’ll do it in the morning, hopefully Princess will give me tomorrow off from practise given my terrible injury and all that.”

“If it’s still hurting tomorrow evening, I’ll come and give you another massage.” Lancelot said the words in the calmest most casual way Gwaine had ever heard anyone make such a proposition, only the glint in his eyes and the quirk of his lips giving him away. Of course, Noble Sir likes-it-rough Lancelot was as smooth as he was mischievous. It was exactly what Gwaine liked him for.

“I think it might hurt for a long time, I might just need _massages_ every day for the foreseeable future,” he said, biting his lip to keep the grin from splitting across his face, trying to match the seriousness of Lancelot’s voice.

Lancelot laughed, his hand on Gwaine’s knee giving his leg a little shake.

“Well, I for one hope you get your full strength back soon.”

“So we can spar again?” Gwaine knew he was one of Lancelot’s favourite sparring partners, because his fighting style was so different.

“So you can fuck me roughly against that wall over there,” he growled, tipping his head towards the wall beside the fireplace.

Gwaine groaned, his stomach doing somersaults.

“Fuck. Yes please.”

“Take care of that shoulder then.” Lancelot gave him a light slap on the cheek, his thumb landing on Gwaine’s lower lip.

Gwaine pulled it into his mouth and bit the tip of it, or rather let his teeth rest over it, putting just enough pressure that there was a row of little indents when Lancelot slid it back out, grinning.

Another yawn overcame Gwaine. He threw the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes screwing shut from the force of the yawn. Lancelot chuckled and got back up off the bed.

“I should get back to my room, let you get some sleep,” he said, his cheeks tingeing slightly pink as he ducked his head.

Gwaine wanted to tell him to stay, to get back in bed and let Gwaine lie with his head on his chest, Lancelot’s fingers combing through his hair, but he didn’t know how to ask.

Instead he just watched as Lancelot went to the table and filled Gwaine’s goblet with mead, bringing it back over to him, letting their fingers brush as he passed the drink over, the intimate intensity back in his dark eyes. Gwaine gulped it down, enjoying the honey sweetness on his tongue and his suddenly dry throat.

Lancelot had begun pulling his clothes back on. Tying his braes’ drawstring and lacing the front of his breeches. Gwaine pouted as Lancelot’s beautiful nakedness was covered up again.

He sat on the bed to pull his boots on and Gwaine put his hands on Lancelot’s hips, trailing over the little bruises made by his fingertips, a satisfied hum rumbling in his throat. Once Lancelot’s boots were on he turned to rest with one knee on the bed, his hand bracing his weight on Gwaine’s thigh as he kissed him hard and let his teeth graze across his jaw through his beard.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said against Gwaine’s lips before kissing him again. Gwaine nipped his lower lip as he pulled back, not quite wanting to let him go. Lancelot patted Gwaine’s chest then walked to the door, leaving Gwaine groaning.

“Lance,” he called, voice rough, as Lancelot’s hand grasped the latch. He turned, smiling softly at him. “Thanks.”

Lancelot chuckled.

“You are more than welcome, Gwaine. Thank you in return.”

He gave him one last grin then slipped out of the room.

Gwaine shuffled down the bed, letting his head hit the pillow. Holy fuck.


End file.
